


the hardest part of this is leaving you

by frerard



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Cancer, M/M, and then this wrote itself, basically listened to cancer for two hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frerard/pseuds/frerard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His shallow breathing fills the silence. The clock ticks. “You know,” I say quietly, “you’re beautiful.” <em>You’re still beautiful this way, and I still love you.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	the hardest part of this is leaving you

“Frank.”  


Gerard’s voice is rough, scratchy. I look up from my seat at the edge of his bed.  


“Yeah?”  


“Could you…could you get me a drink of water?”  


I nod. “Of course, Gee.” I pour him a glass of water and insert a straw, so that he won’t have to sit up. I hold it close to his mouth and he takes a sip. Every movement of his looks strained. It pains me to see him like this.  


“Thank you,” he whispers. I nod and sit back down, fidgeting with my hands. The clock on the wall ticks rhythmically, but does nothing to calm me down. If anything, it only reminds me of the limited days he had left.  


I stare at him, his beautiful, perfectly chiseled face. His long eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes and falls back asleep. Tears sting the corners of my eyes. This isn’t fair. He’s still so young. None of this is fair, really, but who said life is fair?  


“Stop staring,” he mumbles out the corner of his mouth. I smile. He can read me like a book even with his eyes closed. This is only one of the many things I love about him.  


“No, really, I mean it.” He tries to sound annoyed, but he only sounds desperate. Sad. Then it hits home. He doesn’t want me to see him like this. My heart clenches in pain. “Okay,” I whisper, and turn away to stare at the blank wall.  


Things are so different, now. I try to understand him, I really do. I know that if it had been me who was bound to the hospital bed, I wouldn’t have wanted him to look at me either. Even so, there is a new distance between us that just cannot be bridged. It is the sickness, I know. Sickness can transform you into a whole different person and usually for the worse. As the cancer cells spread, it becomes easy for the depression to spread as well.  


But I don’t care. I am going to stay with him until the end and no one can stop me. He knows that. He has to know that I would never leave him.  
His shallow breathing fills the silence. The clock ticks. “You know,” I say quietly, “you’re beautiful.” _You’re still beautiful this way, and I still love you_ , is what I really mean to say.  


He doesn’t bat an eye, but I could tell he understands. Even so, he refuses to accept it. “Mm,” he mumbles, his way of disagreeing.  
I sigh. He’s always been this way, even before the sickness. I am different. I wear my heart on my sleeve. “I love you,” I would say over and over again, showering him with kisses. He’d squirm and laugh, his eyes lighting up, a blush tinting his rosy cheeks. But he would never return those three words. “Thank you,” he would say sometimes, and I knew what he meant, just like he always knew what I meant. He meant, _thank you for staying with me, even though I don’t deserve you._  
It always hurt me to think that someone so perfect could ever hate himself. I knew his story though; I’d been there with him. I was there among the broken bottles, holding him close. I was there, knocking the pills out of his hand, telling him he was better than this. I was there when he tried to push me away, screaming and shouting and spilling out venomous lies just to keep me from getting close. But despite the walls he put up around himself, I gradually wormed my way into his heart.  


And I was glad I did. The days we spent together in the past year have been the greatest so far in my life. I would never, ever trade it for anything. I can only hope he feels the same.  
He opens his eyes suddenly and looks at me. I turn back around to face him, propping my arms on the edge of the bed. “Hm?” I ask. _What’s wrong?_  


“Nothing, it’s just…” he looks away, biting his bottom lip. He shifts a bit so he’s sitting up. “Why are you still here, Frankie?” He sounds like a lost child and I want to cry. “I mean, look at all…this.” He gestures vaguely to the room, talking with his hands as always. I know what he means. _Look at me, I’m a wreck._ “You could be doing so much better…”  


I grab his hand in mid-air and pull it down, trying to be gentle but firm. “Don’t be like that,” I say. “You know it’s not going to work. You can’t push me away no matter how hard you try. You’re stuck with me.” I smile. He smiles vaguely back. The disbelief still lingers in his eyes and I just want to erase it. I want to take away the pain and the doubt and the fear. I want him to be happy.  


And, through all this, I want him to have something good to take with him. I don’t want him to be upset, or hate himself for something that isn’t even his fault. Most of all, I want him to know that I would never give up on him until the end.  


So I try my best to put my feelings into words. “Gee, this past year we spent together has been the best year of my life, and…I want you to feel the same. I don’t want you to leave this world thinking you were a burden or something.” He opens his mouth to protest and I hold up a hand to stop him. “Look, I don’t know how to make you understand this better, but…I love you. So much. I know you don’t want to hurt me or anything, but don’t you understand? It’s too late. I was in love with you the moment I met you and I can’t un-love you now just because of something stupid like this. I can’t and I’m not going to.”  


He understands. I see it in his beautiful hazel eyes. I know he tries to believe me, he really does. Maybe it finally hits him that I’m not lying. I’ve never lied to him. His face lights up in the biggest smile I have seen since the diagnosis and my heart flutters. I climb into the bed, making sure not to sit on any of the tubes, and I wrap my arms around him. We sit in silence, listening to each other’s steady heartbeats.  


“Thank—” he starts, but shakes his head and starts over again. “I love you.”  


He says it, finally. A single tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away hastily. This is enough for me. It’s everything I ever wanted. I cherish this moment, take a mental picture, and tuck it into a little pocket of our fond memories together.  


It gets difficult sometimes, this thing we have between us, and it will get even more difficult as time passes. The tide will wash in, and sweep him away from me, and I will be stranded, helpless. But the love, the shared affection we have, that’s what keeps us afloat. It’s what drowns out the ticking of the clock and makes the prospect of what is to come more bearable.  


And that is enough.


End file.
